


Freezing (But it's... not cold?)

by Ozzyyy



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: (respectful clout), Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blaze Hybrid Jack Manifold, Chicken., Cold Weather, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Gen, Ghost Wilbur Soot, Hurt/Comfort, Hybrid Wilbur Soot, Hybrids, Hypothermia, Jack Needs a Hug, Older Sibling Wilbur Soot, Origin Smp - Freeform, Other, Phantom Hybrid Wilbur Soot, Powers SMP - Freeform, Sickfic, and i am UPSET with it, give my man the clout he deserves, i don't know the name for it, kind of, there is a DISTINCT lack of jack manifold fics, you know the one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-17
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-12 06:20:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29505408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ozzyyy/pseuds/Ozzyyy
Summary: Origins/Powers SMPJack's a blaze hybrid and the overworld is cold as hell (no pun intended) to him. He's not used to these temperatures. It's like going from California to Canada, man, the shock is insane. But it's fine. He's cold and maybe he can't really move cause that makes it MORE cold, but everything's fine.Also Wilbur is annoying but annoying in the way your parent friends are annoying in that they force you to take care of yourself.
Relationships: Jack Manifold & TommyInnit, Jack Manifold & Wilbur Soot
Comments: 25
Kudos: 194





	Freezing (But it's... not cold?)

**Author's Note:**

> tw: hypothermia (kind of), miscommunication, some maybe implied neglect but not REALLY also the theme ended up being a big mirror to how neurodivergent people don't ask for help in a neurotypical world because they have special needs that seem like 'too much work' and so maybe this vibes with that so keep that in mind
> 
> this is just a fic to tide yall over while i work on some other stuff. also im writing more about jack manifold's character because CMON yall are missing on some fucking gold here. dude went to hell twice. *TWICE*. QUIT SLEEPIN ON THIS. 
> 
> also someone tell me if. it's origin or power smp. im confused.

Jack definitely didn't think through this whole 'overworld' thing. It's far too fuckin' cold. Even on the hottest days above ground only manage to brush the temperatures he feels most comfortable in. He knows, at some point, he had to be 'Upstairs' as Tommy often called it. He was born under the blue sky, on the warmest day. He had to be able to stand it at one point before being tossed off through a portal. 

Time changes all people, it seems. Wilbur assured him, it's just a waiting game at this point. Eventually he'd adjust to the new climate and feel less... frigid. Waiting games aren't his fuckin' forte, then, if this is what it feels like. It's been pouring rain near daily, pools of water forming at their feet and soaking the dirt. 

Sure, Niki and Wilbur were some happy goddamn folk. They could be out and about all they wanted in the day. And, yeah, seeing Niki finally on land, picking up flowers, it was a sweet sight. But it just furthered the encroaching cold that seeped into his skin. 

"Fuckin' rain." He seethes, tugging his feet closer to his form, trying to generate his own warmth. Tommy's been out and about for a week now, which is fine. It's fine. He doesn't need someone to babysit him, Jack's a damn adult. It's only, he can't really leave the house and their food options are limited. Tommy can't eat meat, so all their chests are full of food only Tommy can eat, and well-- Seems like a dick move to take food from the kid. 

So he's only slightly starving, and freezing cold, in a realm that isn't made for him, with no one nearby, about 60+ blocks from the ground. 

He'd laugh if it wouldn't come out so miserable. Tommy would be back soon, he was sure, he had left to talk to Philza about the whole 'wings' thing. Mans was a chicken, no one could deny that. there was no doubt, either, that he was going to try and push for some better flight capabilities. How long does that take? He figured it'd be a day trip but there was no sight of Tommy's return. 

Jack cups the headphones over his ears, pressing them into his skull. The music distracted from the sound of puttering rain, distracted him from the cold. 

He's shivering. All the doors are shut, the windows are closed, he's piled under both his and Tommy's blanket, but nothing is doing the trick. He's just not warm enough. The rain's not even hitting him, but the persistence of the chill follows him everywhere. Jack has no idea how any of them live in this, it's like being in a freezer. 

"Ayup!" Jesus christ, he can't do this right now-- 

"Wil--" Jack is already sighing, teeth grinding against each other, "Not the time, mate." He calls back. 

There's silence from the ground, where he's sure Wilbur is standing with that stupid 'going ghost' ability at his fingertips. On any other occasion, Jack would be all there for some verbal cuffing between the two of them, but this is not the day. 

"You sound like shit." He hears Wil yell above the rain. Jack pulls off his headphones, grumbling, and pulls the blankets tighter to himself. He may feel and look like shit but to hell if he's going to let Wilbur goddamn Soot say he's the one who sounds like shit when Wil sounds like a muppet. Jack tries to scoot closer to a window or door, to yell out it, but is immediately berated with cold winds that lick up his sides and cheeks. He falls back, flat on his ass, and holds back a snippy remark. 

"Fuck off." He shouts back, instead. There's no triumph. 

"Nah, now I'm comin' up!" 

"Don't fuckin' come up, you piece of shit!" Jack hisses, fingers clenching hard around the blankets, "You're the embodiment of cold, and you're probably all wet! I've only just done these floors!" It's true, Tommy had left one of the windows open when he left and it took all of Jack's effort to dry up the spot before it rotted through the wood. Then he'd just curled up under the blankets to wait for it to warm. 

Wait, how long has he been almost immobile for? The days had started to blur together, sleep was really the only time he'd be free from the cold, but the freezing temperature meant he could never relax into it. 

"You sound shitter than usual, I mean," Wilbur snorts, hopping through the last block upwards and into 'The Bar' as it'd been named. As soon as he's out of the torrential downpour, he fades into view, skewered smile now turning down at the corners; "And you look shitter than usual." 

"Rather rude, isn't it?" Jack snaps quietly, pushing a little further back into the stone walls of the floating house. His body is wracked with sudden trembling. Betrayal! 

"Are you scared of the thunder or something?" 

"No!" Jack grits his teeth, "I'm not scared of the bloody fuckin' thunder, it's cold out here!" 

Wil stares blankly down at him. 

"Your plane's climate is a bit chillier than I'm used to, Casper." He spits. 

"Oh, and the rain--" 

"Is making it worse." He pulls a hand out of the safety of the blanket to scratch at his scalp in habitual manner, stopping when he sees Wilbur's mouth gape, then close, like a fish. 

"What?" 

"Your fingers are blue." He blanches, crouching beside Jack and taking the hand in his own. Jack winces, but holds back the immediate recoil from the cold grip, "Jesus, Manifold, I didn't think it was this bad." He takes a look himself to see the ends are in fact turning a different hue. He couldn't even feel them anymore. He heard at some point, the cold feels hot-- god is he desperate for that. 

Jack shakes his head and swipes his hand away, "Tommy'll be back soon. And we'll both get an earful if you're in here. I can't be cold, starving, and fuckin' deaf, that's too many variables." 

Wilbur's face twists more unpleasantly, "You're starving?" He pockets his hands, looking around the house and seeing more and more disturbing evidence of a lack of care. Dust settling in thin layers across cupboards, cups tipped over, the furnace is empty of coal or wood, and there's no way down out of the tower. He stands and worries his lip between his teeth.

"Just bein' hyperbolic." Jack murmurs. 

"I don't think you are." 

He hates how serious Wilbur's tone gets. Whenever he's serious, it means everyone's about to learn some goddamn lesson. Jack's far too tired for that. Especially because Wil's got that look in his eye. If he's about to die from the cold, it better not be to a fucking Wilbur Soot Rant. He's more then capable of taking care of himself in OTHER circumstances. This was just new. 

"Can you go? You're kickin' up the dust n' shit." 

"I'm not fucking leaving," Wilbur laughs, chuckle dripping with honest concern, "Not now, are you serious?" He eyes quickly between Jack and the kitchen area, walking in and pulling off his pack to set on the counter. It's not much, just a simple set up behind a counter island. Jack's tried to use it, honestly, but soon standing and wasting his energy that could be used to keeping himself warm wasn't worth it. 

Jack violently shivers and closes in on himself, growing more apathetic to the presence by the minute. He lets out a low groan, frustrated. This was embarrassing. He was fine. He was FINE. 

Wilbur sweeps from the kitchen to the common area, a level down, and in passing, kicks up cold settled air that brushes his socked feet. He tucks himself in tighter, biting back an insult as he shivers. 

With a few clicks, the furnace is ignited, but Jack's far from paying attention to it. His head is tucked into his chest, fingers death gripping his arms, shaking. It's too cold. It's too goddamn cold and he's gonna fucking die here- 

"Hold on man, I got it," Wilbur hurries, bringing the furnace to the highest heat he can without burning down the house and bustles to Jack's side once again. He winces when the boy flinches from his touch, knowing he's probably the least welcomed person right now from his undoubtedly cold blood. 

"I got a fire, c'mon, it'll be alright man." 

Jack sets his jaw but stays silent. 

"I promise, I promise it'll get warmer--" He tugs the man by his shoulders, pulling him closer by inches until he gives up on getting a solid response when he can hear the man's teeth clacking together. Wilbur just grabs under his arms and yanks hims hard towards the furnaces, grimacing past the frightened yelp the other gives. 

It's like being doused in ice cold water. Jack gasps, swallowing any noise to follow out of sheer need to at least keep his pride when he freezes to death. His numb fingers and toes scrape uselessly against the wooden floor. 

Then from what felt like the never ending tundra, he feels his cheek press against something hot, sizzling, and crackling with heat. His hands glide across the stone and curl under the lip of a furnace, the blood rushing back to his hands at dizzying speeds. 

Jack has never thought heat was so sexy, goddamn. 

He plunges his hands into the embers, relishing in the flames. He flexes them, it's like taking a nap in the sunlight-- it's so good- 

"Oh-woah!-- Oh. I suppose that's... alright for blaze types?" Wilbur says thoughtfully, helping adjust the man so his entire side was pressed into the front of the furnace. He drapes the blankets on top, hoping the heat will warm them to a more suitable temperature for the blaze. He counts his lucky stars Jack didn't just burn his hands. 

Jack hums, leaning his whole head against it. Heat lances up his cheeks and soothes his cold bones. If he could curl up in the damn thing he'd do it. It's not fully covering his body, but the blankets help. Prickling nerves begin to settle back in place, circulation humming happily. 

"Hold up, lean back for a sec, man." 

Oh absolutely not. Jack shakes his head, eyes fluttering shut as sleep begins to crawl up across his vision. He hasn't slept in so long, he needs to, he needs this rest in the warmth while he still can--

A hand pulls his shoulder gently backwards, into the cold. 

Jack snarls, whipping his head around and curling closer to the flames, feeling the familiar fury of the nether rise in his chest. His whole body feels like it's supposed to be igniting, smoke curling out his nostrils feebly. This sucks. This fucking sucks. 

Wilbur rolls his eyes, unimpressed, and shoves a steaming bowl into Jack's hands, "Eat, dumbass." 

It's gone in seconds, Jack doesn't bother with a spoon and tips the bowl back, swallowing it down. He can tell Wilbur's pulling at his wrist, urging him to slow down, but that's not entirely on Jack's mind. Just the need to consume, to regain. 

"You're gonna get fuckin' sick!" Wilbur snaps, tugging the bowl from Jack's grasp and fixing him with a look when the blaze loosens his grip. 

After the food and warmth, he can feel himself grow more temperate, calm. Heart pumping a familiar thump in his chest. He purses his lips, sheepish, "Sorry. I don't get sick though. Burn that off in seconds, swear it." 

Wilbur just huffs, seemingly accepted the apology, and returns back to the kitchen. In the few moments Jack spares looking around, he sees Wilbur's still mid-cook of the meal, the kitchen now full of hot steam that it's clouding up the windows. Everything feels lighter. 

Jack tucks his feet closer to the fire, slipping off his socks so they don't burn up. He can't remember the last time he felt this warm in the overworld. 

He gulps down two more servings of soup, much to Wilbur's chagrin, leaving him one happy blaze. His previously lifeless blaze rods are now spinning and spitting embers around him again, the red flame back in Jack's eyes. Heat feels like something he can generate now, spreading it like a coat over his skin to insulate it, as long as he has the fuel of the furnace pressed into his fingers. 

Meanwhile, Wilbur busies himself with a small construction project, cutting out a small area behind the furnaces and covering it with nether bricks. A little bit of adjustment here and there, and Wil's pretty certain it won't burn the house down. 

It's essentially a larger fireplace, the center wood bits replaced with a nice nether constructed seat. Jack couldn't really bring blankets or wear much other than his fire resistant clothing he already had, but it would do for now. It was a warm place to lay down, and a safe place to light shit on fire without risking losing The Bar. 

And after some coaxing, Jack began to see that too. He practically leaps from the furnace to the fireplace, holding back a groan of relief when he feels the familiar high heats. 

"This is so much fucking better."

"No shit. You were sputtering out like, an hour ago." 

Jack doesn't even have the energy to retort angrily, only nodding, "Mm. This is-- oh this is so good." 

"You're saying that a lot." Wil snarks, zipping back up his back, "You know, if you needed... help or something, you could ask." He points out. 

Jack's eyes sleepily open, slowly blinking, "I mean, yeah, but I can do it. I'm big n' shit." 

"Yeah, but even adults need help, you know." Wilbur raises an eyebrow, "You were sick. I would've dropped by earlier if you asked. Anyone would've. This... this is important to keep you safe." 

"I can do it..." 

"I know you can, dumbass, I'm saying you don't have to. And that you tried that and it almost got you frozen to death." He snips, sighing as he tugs his bag back over his shoulders, "Just, don't be afraid to reach out to us. We're all freaks here. We're not like the outside folk." 

"Mm." Is the muted reply. 

Wil glances over with mild interest before his frown curls into an amused grin. Jack was practically asleep, curled up tight against the nether brick wall and looking content as ever. Like the cat that caught the canary. Wilbur lets out a breath, there's no way Jack heard anything he just said. 

He pulls one last coal bundle from his bag and places it right beside the fireplace, within arms reach, just in case. And for posterity, he sends Jack a message through their communicators to remind him that if shit goes sideways, Wil's one of the quickest people on the server considering he could walk through mountains. 

He dims all the lanterns he finds, folds back up the blankets, and makes sure all the windows are shut before he leaves. As he fades from view, totally storing the image away for future blackmail, he lets out a quiet; "Sleep well, Jack."

**Author's Note:**

> im aware this is a niche audience but when what i ever written something for anyone other than me--


End file.
